


a firm hand

by chrofeather



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Begging, Cloacal Sex, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, F/M, Female Ejaculation, Femdom, Fingerfucking, Humiliation, Light BDSM, Object Insertion, Oral Sex, Restraints, Self-Lubricating Cardassians, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:29:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26089453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrofeather/pseuds/chrofeather
Summary: Dukat pushes Kira too far and faces the consequences.
Relationships: Dukat/Kira Nerys
Comments: 6
Kudos: 37





	a firm hand

**Author's Note:**

> Don't ask me what possessed me to write this, but it was highly satisfying. I have a lot of WIPs and this was one that I had started and then was inspired to finish just today. 
> 
> I don't ship these two, but I really wanted to write a scenario where Kira totally wrecks Dukat (because let's face it, she would). Dukat THINKS he wants to woo Kira, but really he wants her to step on him and tell him how pathetic he is. This starts out as dubcon, but Dukat is into it. 
> 
> I'd love to know what you thought of it!

“Major, I assure you this isn’t necess—”

“Shut up, Dukat.” Kira’s tone was devoid of mercy as she kicked his legs apart so that most of his weight was supported by his chest, one hand still pinning his arm painfully behind his back as he was face-down over Captain Sisko’s desk. “Don’t move, or I swear you will regret it.”

Dukat knew better than to test her word. 

He was still processing how things had escalated so quickly, really. One moment he had been talking with the lovely Major in Sisko’s (formerly his own) office in Ops, a hand sliding down to rest on her lower back, perhaps just a bit lower than what was proper, and a second later she had slammed him face-down on the desk, twisting his arm painfully behind his back. 

He felt a firm pressure encircling one ankle, then the other, and at last a sharp tightening of both as Kira secured his ankles to the legs of the wide, heavy desk. He couldn’t help but be surprised. Where had she gotten the rope from?

She came around to the other side of the desk, casually pushing the desk chair away, and proceeded to bind his wrists in the same fashion, so that his arms were spread apart in much the same way, forcing him to remain draped over the desk with his legs wide. He looked up at her with raised eye-ridges as she was deftly securing the knots around his left wrist, just a bit tighter than was comfortable. 

“Major, this is quite an impropriety,” he remarked, discreetly testing the strength of his bonds and finding a cursory tug utterly ineffective. He pulled harder, putting his real strength into it this time, and found the ropes unforgiving. He could squirm, but nothing else, bound too tight to get any leverage.

The surprise must have showed on his face. “Don’t bother trying to break those ropes. They’ll only get tighter,” she said with no small amount of satisfaction, not deigning to respond to his earlier comment. “Even a Klingon couldn’t break free from Bajoran steel-silk.”

Ah. Bajoran steel-silk was one of the more curious exports of the otherwise unremarkable planet, a fabric that could be pulled through a wedding ring by the yard and at the same time was nigh-unbreakable. Naturally, it was popular among wealthy Cardassians and those with very much non-State-sanctioned sexual proclivities. But it had proven difficult to source, given that it was made only in small batches by secretive Bajoran artisans. 

The fact that Major Kira had some on hand was… interesting, to say the least. Perhaps he would play her game for now. He wanted to see how far she would go.

Dukat tried not to grin. “And how do you suppose you’ll explain this to Captain Sisko when he comes back to his office? I imagine he’ll have some questions.”

“Not that it’s any of your concern, but I happen to know that the Captain will be in a meeting for the next hour at least,” Kira responded, checking her knots and then taking an unhurried walk around the desk to observe him. She stopped directly on the opposite side of the desk, between him and the door, and he could feel her eyes on him, appreciating her handiwork. 

The sharp slap she laid on his rump was enough to make him flinch in genuine surprise. 

“So don’t worry,” she continued casually as she felt him up and down for weapons. “You and I will have plenty of time to work things out.”

When her hand grabbed the inside of his thigh none too gently, Dukat had to restrain a noise of surprise. “Why, Major Kira, I had no idea you were interested in a… _reconciliation_ between us,” he practically purred, wriggling enticingly in his bonds. This was certainly not how he’d expected the game to go, but he was certainly interested in playing, and his gaze followed her as she circled around back to the front of the desk.

Kira’s expression contorted in disgust, and he hissed as she fisted a hand in his hair and yanked his head back to look him in the eyes. “Don’t think I have the slightest interest in touching any part of you, you slimy lizard freak,” she snapped. “I’ve tried to tell you that for years. But apparently _this—”_ She gave another painful yank on his hair, his neck twingeing, “—is the only message you Cardassians will listen to.”

“I’m going to teach you a lesson, Dukat, and maybe this time you’ll get it,” Kira continued with no small amount of derision, letting his head drop back to the desk. 

She strode out of his field of view, coming back to stand behind him again, and Dukat couldn’t suppress the flutter of nervous anticipation in his belly. She definitely seemed serious. How far was she going to take this? Tying him up in Sisko’s bloody _office_ , for guls’ sake?!

There was a loud tearing sound as she sliced through the fabric of his waistband and yanked his trousers down around his lower thighs, and he stiffened in alarm. “Major!” he protested, voice going up an octave, uncomfortably conscious that his bare ass was facing the door that opened to the Operations platform. “This is a flagrant violation of protocol, and I must—”

“Don’t try to bullshit me, Dukat,” Kira cut him off easily. He heard her slide her belt out of its loops. “Computer, lock doors.” 

The computer complied with a beep, and Dukat was only slightly comforted by it. The door had multiple transparent windows. All anyone had to do was glance this way and they’d have a damn good idea of what was happening inside.

“This is happening here and now. I’ve been far too patient with you already,” Kira continued, her voice hard. “Now, if you can stay quiet, no one will have to know about this.” She tapped his bare ass with the loop of leather that was her belt, chuckling when he tensed up. “If you can’t… well, the staff in Ops might get some entertainment.”

Dukat felt his scales flush with humiliation at the very thought. He pulled against his bonds on instinct, knowing it was useless. “Major, I order you to release me, _now,_ ” he commanded, trying to sound authoritative rather than desperate. This was getting out of hand. 

The knots around his wrists and ankles only felt tighter for his efforts, and the cool breeze of recirculated air across his bare ass and legs was a sharp reminder of his exposed state. 

Kira just laughed. “As though you have any authority over me,” she chuckled, adjusting her grip on the belt. “This has been a long time coming, Dukat. You need someone to teach you some manners. And honestly? I’m _glad_ it’s me.”

Dukat opened his mouth to protest, to delay her, to do something, but the only thing that came out was a humiliating yelp when her belt struck his left ass cheek with a loud _smack._ He tried to flinch away from the sharp sting, but he had nowhere to go, and he was left with the lingering burn, hot and prickling beneath the softer scales of his rear end.

“ _That_ certainly shut you up,” Kira remarked with clear amusement. “I should have done this ages ago.” 

“Major, release me this instant!” Dukat hissed, enraged and humiliated. He pulled against the ropes with all his Cardassian strength, but all he succeeded in doing was wiggling his bare ass and tightening the ropes around his wrists to the point of pain. 

Kira responded by laying another strike, this time on his right cheek, harsher than the last. The _crack_ of the belt’s impact was loud even to his own ears, and he let out a vicious hiss of impotent rage. 

“I will ensure that you live to regret this,” Dukat growled, trying to glare at her over his shoulder. “There will be consequences, and I will—!”

“You’ll what?” Kira challenged. She struck him again, this time in the soft place just below his ass cheeks, where they met his thighs, and smirked at his full-body flinch. “You’ll go running to Central Command and tell them a Bajoran—a Bajoran _woman_ , no less—overpowered you and beat your ass ‘til you begged for mercy?”

That took the wind right out of Dukat’s sails, his threats falling empty with the wave of humiliation that washed over him at the thought. He hated this, but he hated more that she was right. “You’re mistaken if you think I’m going to beg,” he said mutinously. 

“Typical Cardassian,” Kira said breezily. “You’re all talk. When the going gets tough, you crumple as easily as that flimsy armor you wear. You know, the resistance found out pretty quickly that running out of energy weapons wasn’t all that bad. Turns out slugthrowers can pierce right through that armor.” 

She stepped closer, her thighs nearly touching his as she leaned over his back. It was a casual display of her power over him, one that he despised. “You know, I remember we almost got you with a projectile shot once, that time you visited the planet’s surface,” she recounted casually. “I think it was right about… here.” She laid her hand on the right side of his lower back, pushing the cuirass to the side to finger the dip of the scar next to his spine. “Pity those rifles weren’t all that accurate. The kid who was shooting was aiming for your heart.”

Dukat snarled and tried to buck her off, suppressing a shiver, but he couldn’t move more than an inch in any direction. 

Kira just chuckled and stepped back again, patting his stinging ass with her free hand. “Alright, I guess you need a little more convincing.” 

She started up a rhythm, laying smack after smack on his now terribly sore ass, never leaving enough time for the sting to fade entirely before the next blow fell. Sometimes she would vary her target, aiming for his ass or his upper thighs and sometimes both cheeks at once. Occasionally a low smack would catch the lips of his ajan and he would flinch hard, biting back a yelp as the poor sensitive flesh stung sharply. 

He fought it at first, kicking and snarling and swearing at her, but soon Dukat realized he had done nothing but exhaust himself, his bonds so tight it hurt with every beat of his heart. His ass cheeks stung and burned even between slaps of Kira’s belt, and he was certain his ass and thighs were thoroughly striped with welts. The humiliation burned even deeper than that, a shame that sat in the pit of his stomach like a stone. Dukat had always been the one holding all the cards, and now he was entirely at the Major’s mercy. 

Every smack of the belt had him flinching involuntarily, and in one of the rare moments when Kira took a break to rest her arm, Dukat lay there panting. He swallowed, finding his throat dry, upon realizing that the heat building under his skin was more than just pain, more than just pure humiliation. His ass throbbed with pain, and then there was the utterly mortifying realization that he felt his genital slit begin to moisten with arousal. 

“Had enough yet?” Kira asked. She sounded unbothered.

“Have _you_ , Major?” he shot back, only to be reprimanded with another harsh slap. This one caught the lips of his ajan full on, and before he could stop himself, he outright moaned at the bolt of hot pain-pleasure that zinged through him.

Kira’s eyebrows went up, and she had the nerve to _laugh._ “I should have known you’d get off on this,” she snorted. “Look at you, all wet and ready for someone to fill your little Cardie cunt.” 

Oh, _fuck._ Dukat felt his cock stir in its internal sheath, just the tip starting to peek out, and he tried desperately to hold it back, resisting the urge. He felt the lips of his slit part, all slick and practically dripping. He hadn’t even realized how worked up he was until now, and the Major was not letting it go unnoticed.

“Huh. I knew you were a slut, Dukat—there’s no way someone like you could have gotten promoted so high otherwise—but this is really pathetic,” she said, grabbing a handful of his tender flesh to spread him open for her inspection. 

Dukat couldn’t help the little gasp that escaped his lips when she grabbed his ass, and he felt another gush of slick leak from his now puffy and swollen ajan. He ached with the need to evert, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could deny it. 

“ _Major—_ ”

“Oh, what now? You’re enjoying this, I can already see,” she commented, clearly disgusted. She clicked her tongue. “Alright, show me. I can see you’re just dying to, and I’ve never seen a Cardie cock up close before.”

Dukat shuddered and everted into her hand without another word, letting out a shaky little moan at the sensation of her soft hand against his most sensitive flesh. It fit easily into her fist, and it took everything he had not to shamelessly thrust into her hand.

“Disappointing, just like the rest of you,” Kira said, making a face as she wiped her hand on Dukat’s pants. “You know, I ought to leave you like this, just so you can think about all the ways you deserve so much worse than what you’re getting.” 

Dukat felt a flash of panic just at the thought. She wouldn’t, would she? Not like this? That was cruel, even for her. 

“But that’s the difference between you and me,” she continued, patting his tender ass. “I’m fair. So if you ask me nicely, I’ll end this.”

Dukat lay quivering under the touch of her warm skin, desperately aroused. Great Guls, he wanted it, wanted _her_ , but he’d have to give up the last shreds of his pride to do it. He swallowed hard.

“I don’t have all day, Dukat.” Kira’s voice was edged with impatience, and he knew her threats were not idle.

He might as well. Dukat knew his dignity was already ridiculously far gone. “Major,” he panted. “Major, _please_ —”

“Yes?”

“Don’t leave me like this, Major. Have mercy.” The words made his scales burn with humiliation, but his ajan throbbed and his cock twitched with need.

“Mercy is more than you deserve,” she said coldly. But all the same, three of her fingers shoved gracelessly into his soaking ajan, and he moaned with pathetic need, trying to thrust back on those fingers. 

The harsh, merciless thrusting of her fingers inside him made obscene, slick noises, but _fuck_ if it wasn’t the best Dukat had ever had, taking everything she would give him and more. She didn’t deign to even touch his cock, but he didn’t even care. He tried to push back on her fingers, tightening around her and desperately working towards the orgasm he could feel building with every press of her inside him. 

“Ugh, this is disgusting. You’re making a mess,” Kira said with disdain, and Dukat was devastated when she pulled her fingers out, panting and looking desperately over his shoulder. 

“I’ve got a better idea.” He watched her go to the cabinet behind the desk and take out an empty, decorative kanar bottle, one with a relatively short neck and a wide base. He didn’t put two and two together until she was behind him again, pressing the cool glass against his hot, slick opening. 

There was absolutely nothing he could do to stop her, and Dukat had to bite his tongue to stifle the desperate moan he felt rising in his chest when she pushed the bottle into him, feeling utterly filthy in the very best way. It was somewhat uncomfortable, angled wrong and almost overwhelming, but he was leaking copious amounts of slick around it, and when she began to give short, sharp thrusts with the bottle it was almost too much. 

“See, you just needed someone to show you who’s in charge,” Kira said, sounding almost bored as Dukat writhed and whimpered underneath her not-so-tender ministrations. 

He was close, so close, when she stopped abruptly, and Dukat had half a mind to beg her to keep going, no matter what she had planned next. She pushed the bottle in as far as it would go, then patted the glass base, forcing him to tighten around it to hold it inside him. 

“Hold that,” she ordered him, then unzipped her uniform trousers, sliding them down her long legs and kicking them off. “I’m thinking I may as well get _something_ out of this.”

Kira climbed onto the desk and spread her legs in front of his face, revealing her wet sex and an impressively protruding clitoral erection. He could scent how aroused she was, and it was thrilling. 

She reached down and grabbed him by the hair again, this time pressing a thumb into his chufa. The pain of having that sensitive spot compressed was nearly enough to make his eyes cross, but he moaned all the same. 

She regarded him with a supercilious stare from above. “I think you know what to do. Don’t make me tell you twice.”

She shoved his face into her cunt, and he eagerly complied, flattening his long blue tongue to lick a wide stripe up her wet sex before he reached her hard clit, which he enthusiastically suckled. Kira hissed in pleasure and tightened her grip in his hair, the muscles of her legs flexing. 

Dukat had gone from outraged and unwilling to desperate and needy in the time the Major had taken him into her capable hands, and he couldn’t even find it in himself to be angry about it, not when this was his reward. Finally he had a chance to show her just how capable he could be, even if this was what it took to get there. 

Kira was breathing hard now, her toes curling against the surface of the desk as Dukat alternated between lapping at her clit with his wonderfully rough tongue and suckling it oh-so-perfectly, wishing he had a hand free so he could slip a couple fingers into her and make it even better. 

It turned out he did a fine job with just his tongue. Soon Kira’s panting and muttered swears grew in intensity, and she let out a short, bitten-off cry as she came with a gush of sweet Bajoran slick, which Dukat eagerly lapped up. He kept up the rhythm of his tongue as she shuddered through her orgasm, slowly coming down from the high. 

He didn’t stop until she pushed his head away, and she sat back a few inches, catching her breath. 

Kira patted his head lazily, smoothing back strands of his disheveled black hair. “Good boy.”

The words sent an aroused shudder through him, but he couldn’t complain. He had already come, totally untouched, while he was pleasuring her. He lay there, trying to savor the afterglow as Kira got up and put her pants back on. She slid the bottle out of his soaking ajan and gave his sore ass an almost affectionate pat.

It was even better than he’d imagined. He did miss Terok Nor sometimes. Dukat almost regretted it when he had to say, “Computer, end program.”

Perhaps while he was here, and perhaps if the Major was off-duty, he could try for the real thing. 


End file.
